


do footsie, not footwar

by randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crack-ish, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Tumblr Prompt, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13
Summary: It was Aziraphale and Crowley's wedding, and Archangel Gabriel and Lord Beelzebub were invited.





	do footsie, not footwar

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer & Note:**
> 
>   * Good Omens is a novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gailman, adapted into a TV series by BBC and Amazon Prime and directed by Douglas MacKinnon.
> 
>   * The author does not take any material profits by writing this fanfiction.

It was a nice day.

_Very, very_ nice day.

It was Aziraphale and Crowley's wedding reception after all. After weeks and months of unnecessary anxieties, the hectic preparations, the horrifying perfectionist-selves that came out from each other[1] and now here they are. The D-day!

Everything went down just according to plan. As supernatural beings, no human would be sufficient to officiate the ceremony. But Archangel Gabriel and Lord Beelzebub had personally come to express their approvals for the union of the angel (who rebelled) and the demon (that not so much fell, as sauntered vaguely downward). And despite not seeing The Almighty for quite some times, Aziraphale believed that the nice weather and how lovely his wedding avenue was, were how God had blessed them.[2]

Crowley looked dazzling in white suit and Aziraphale knew that the black suit he picked himself was no pale in comparison either. They completed each other, a symbolism that even with their blatant contrast, they were compatible in more than just one way.

They both agreed for Anathema to lead the wedding. The Them was their ring-bringers and flower-kids.[3] Crowley sniffled a bit when the children approached them on the altar [4] and he was trembling when he took out his ring.

Aziraphale smiled softly at his nervousness. He could relate.

And after few minutes of exchanging the most meaningful, most heartfelt vows, they were pronounced husband and husband.

There was also kiss that absolutely would go down-hill to non-PG if Anathema wasn't panicked and _accidentally_ called for a toast, "FOR AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY" in the loudest voice ever. Crowley merely grumbled[5] and stole few tamer kisses before raising his champagne, an arm circling his husband's waist. Aziraphale didn't think he could stop smiling, even if he tried.

Then, they proceeded to the feast.

For once, Aziraphale was not distracted by foods. He was too busy <strike>teaching</strike> slow-dancing with Crowley. Laughing quietly when the demon took the wrong step or if they didn't match the music. They were busy being so happily married that they didn't even pay attention to anything else, until they caught people grumbling.

"I wonder who are they," Mrs. Young said to Mr. Young. "I hope they don't come to mess up this nice wedding."

Crowley's ears perked up. He mouthed _what is she talking about?_ but Aziraphale shook his head. They were dancing closer to the Young couple who were now sitting on their table.

Mr. Young still munched on his cake, uncaring about everything his wife had said.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Young swatted his arm. "Stop eating, I'm trying to tell you something."

"Wha—" Mr. Young stopped in the middle of savouring his second slice. "What, now, Deidre?"

"Those couple over there," Mrs. Young started glaringly[6] when Mr. Young attempted to follow her gaze. "I thought they were supposed to be family guests, I overheard Anathema talking about them being high corporates or something. But they are acting very childish, kicking each other under the table!"

Mr. Young glanced briefly to see which couple his wife had referred to. "Ah."

"Ah?"

Crowley snickered at the most disinterested response Mrs. Young had probably ever received and her scandalised reaction. Aziraphale swung their body so that they could see the culprits.

Of course. It's Archangel Gabriel and Lord Beelzebub.

"Damn you, seat plan[7]," Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale kissed the corner of his mouth, washing out the swearing. "I will talk to them."

Crowley whined. "No, angel—"

"Sssh," Aziraphale put his finger on Crowley's lips, shutting him up. "It would be the best if I gently remind them."

"But—"

"Go enjoy the banquet, darling," Aziraphale patted his husband's cheek. "I'll be right back."

The Archangel Gabriel and Lord Beelzebub were sitting across each other. They don't consume any of the banquet, not even touching the wine and champagne. They just sat and (sort of) scowled, resenting each other's presence. Even though, Aziraphale could sense an underlying feeling he couldn't identify yet was familiar with.

The archangel saw the principality approached the table, and he smiled wide. The lord of hell strangely winced at the same time.

"My, my, Aziraphale!" He greeted. "Congratulations for the wedding. It is now established that while you still maintain your status as an angel, you can no longer bother us as we can no longer bother you. We won't be bothered by each other, right?"

"Yes, Gabriel." Aziraphale said. "Thank you for coming."

"Ah! It's nothing, I want to observe the crowds from close," Gabriel winked. "if you know what I mean."[8]

"Tell Crowley, he zzzzhould zztay away from any trouble that might affect hell," Beelzebub interfered.

Aziraphale smiled. "Of course, Lord Beelzebub."

At that, Beelzebub yelped. "Bazztard!"

But the lord of hell did not direct the curse on the groom. Beelzebub scowled at Gabriel, then kicking the archangel back, rocking the table a bit. Aziraphale caught the champagne glass before it fell.

"Archangel Gabriel, Lord Beelzebub," Aziraphale cleared his throat, hoping that this wouldn't come off as rude. "I'd need to ask you to stop being aggressive on each other, please?"

"I see them doing it and you're not complaining!" Beelzebub said, pointing at Anathema and Newton who were seated not too far. Aziraphale could see they were smiling, playfully nudging each other's feet.

"It is, what humans usually call playing _footsie_, apparently," Gabriel said very proud of himself for knowing such human word, his fingers addressing someone on the next table. "As that nice lady over there has kindly informed us."

Aziraphale saw Madame Tracy winked at them when she heard Gabriel referred her.

"It iz not aggrezzive," Beelzebub kicked the archangel's shin, making him yelped in surprise. "It iz a form of affec—lov—good term! It iz how we reconzile."

"Aww, you almost say love! That's so sweet, honeybee," Gabriel smirked.

Beelzebub aimed his knees. "I am the lord of fliezzz, azzhole."

"Ouch!"

"I can't believe I say this, but with all due respect, please restrain yourself from swearing in this wedding as it would upset my husband."

Crowley appeared behind Aziraphale, his yellowish eyes glowing behind his sunglasses. The sight of the demon bathing in holy water seemed fresh on the lord of hell's memory, that Beelzebub only mumbled in response.

"What it is all about, anyway?" Crowley asked. "This is supposed to be our happy day, you two start bothering other guests."

Aziraphale answered, "They're reconciling, by playing footsie."

"They what?"

Gabriel straightened his body. "We are very serious about this reconciliation."

"Good term," Beelzebub added, kicking the archangel's leg.

The archangel retaliated. "Very good term."

Aziraphale face-palmed, wondered whether it was acceptable to kick these two out of their wedding. But Crowley seemed oddly pleased.

"Yeah, we get it. Just, don't be too aggressive." The demon leaned in, as if about to whisper the most important secret in the world. "You know, there's always holding hand method. Human invented it. In case, you want to assess dominance over your ... partner."

Aziraphale opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Crowley grabbed his hand and dragging him away.

"Enjoy the wedding!"

The last thing he heard before the orchestra played a new song, was Beelzebub and Gabriel contemplating how did such method work.[9]

**fin.**

* * *

**footnotes**

[1] Crowley had anticipated how careful Aziraphale would be in choosing their wedding banquet but Aziraphale wouldn't have known that Crowley could be so invested with flowers if it wasn't for their wedding. ∆

[2] Aziraphale would love to think that The Almighty was less subtle than anyone who arranged the word, "FINALLY" on their cupcakes frosting. Crowley was still not convinced. ∆

[3] Pepper and Adam were the ring-bringers, Wensleydale and Brian were quite happy they could throw flower petals. They wore grey suits (even Pepper, per her request) that really, really suited them. ∆

[4] Which was not altar at all, and more like a small podium—but for the sake of wedding authenticity, let's just treat it as one. They were having their wedding on the open hill, nowhere near any church. A compromise for neutral ground since both of heaven and hell were attending, and it also wouldn't be fair for Crowley to suffer burnt feet on his own wedding. ∆

[5] For someone who just teared up over Aziraphale waxing poetic about him, Crowley could switch into _"I will show you the real pleasure of wedding night, until you can never think anything else, husband"_ demeanour in very, very short time. If Aziraphale looked slightly flushed after their kisses, people would be surprised (and grossed out) to see him before he miracled his blush off. ∆

[6] It was euphemism for _"Geez Arthur, don't look!" _which was said with a horrifying scowl. ∆

[7] It was actually Crowley's idea to seat them in one table. Aziraphale had agreed because he genuinely thought it was suitable for the reconciliation atmosphere. Crowley, however, did the seating for the satisfaction to see the archangel and the lord of hell annoying each other—which now he realized was a bad idea that could potentially lead them to mess up the wedding. ∆

[8] Aziraphale did not know what Gabriel meant. ∆

[9] Spoiler: to make this method work, you _should hold_, not gripping so tightly BDSM community would be proud of you. <strike> yes, looking at you, Beelzebub </strike> ∆

**Author's Note:**

> > Based on [this post](https://omenmeup.tumblr.com/post/185867978613/at-aziraphales-and-crowleys-wedding-reception).
> 
> Sorry, it's 4 am and I wrote such weird thing. Blame my brain.


End file.
